Confessions of a Slightly Neurotic Hitwoman

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Authors: JB Lynn
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surprised that he managed to make his condolence sound sincere. “Thank you. I was distracted. I didn’t mean to run into him, and I did apologize right away.”
    He nodded, offering silent encouragement to continue with my story.
    “And then he shoved me into the wall.” My hands curled into fists at the memory. “I just got so mad. I followed him into the room to tell him off.”
    The detective pulled a roll of wintergreen Lifesavers from his shirt pocket and offered me one.
    I could smell the minty-fresh flavor from across the table. In my hungover state it made me want to retch. “No, thank you.”
    “So . . . you went in the room to tell him off, and . . .”
    “He had a pillow over Dominic’s face.”
    “You knew the boy’s name?” He popped the mint into his mouth and chewed, slowly and deliberately.
    “Not then.” Apparently he didn’t understand that the point of the candy was to allow it to dissolve on one’s tongue. The relentless crunching grated on my nerves.
    “But you found out later?”
    “Yes.”
    “How?”
    I hesitated for a second. It probably wasn’t a good idea to mention Tony/Anthony Delveccio. That was a can of worms better left unopened. “Someone told me.”
    “Who?”
    “I really don’t remember. There were so many doctors, nurses, and other hospital staff milling around.”
    “Family?”
    I considered playing dumb, but decided that was too far-fetched, and I’d end up getting caught in the lie. “Yes, of course! I probably heard some family members use Dominic’s name.”
    “Probably. So you see the pillow and then what?”
    “I hit him with a chair. Twice. But then he got it away from me and . . .” My voice cracked as I remembered my terror in that moment.
    “Take your time.”
    “He swung it at me.”
    “And he missed?”
    I nodded emphatically. He’d most definitely missed.
    “That’s the part I don’t get. Alfonso Cifelli is a bad guy. He’s got multiple assault-and-battery arrests on his record, but you, who, as far as I can tell, have no special hand-to-hand combat training, managed to beat him.” His soft voice was now laced with tempered steel.
    “No, no! I didn’t beat him. I avoided him.”
    “How?”
    I looked away. I couldn’t believe that I was about to admit my stealthy ninja move to this man. I blurted out my confession as one long word. “Istoppeddroppedandrolled.”
    “You what?
    I sighed. “I stopped. I dropped. And I rolled. He was swinging that chair at me. It was the only thing I could think to do. Fire avoidance 101.”
    The corners of his mouth quirked, but he had the good grace not to actually laugh at me. “Like they teach to kindergartners?” The edge in his voice was gone. Now he just sounded amused.
    “Exactly!”
    “I never understood why they drill that into five-year-olds who will probably never get near an open flame, but they don’t even mention it to adolescents when they give them Bunsen burners in junior-high chemistry classes.”
    I grinned. “I never thought of it that way.”
    “Maybe they’re afraid that having boys and girls rolling around on the floor together would necessitate additional sex-ed classes.”
    For a split second I thought there was a spark of sexual tension hovering in the air. Yeah, I was so lonely that the mere mention of the word sex in conversation had me misreading signals.
    He grinned and continued, “Or maybe they’ve just figured out that people don’t retain much after the age of ten.”
    The guy was certainly not hitting on me.
    Embarrassed by my desperateness, I managed a weak smirk. “Or in my case, five.”
    “That was a very brave thing you did, Miss Lee. Dumb, but brave. Thank you for your time.”
    He got up and left me sitting alone at the picnic bench. He was right about one thing.
    I was dumb.

 
    Chapter Nine
     
    Y OU KNOW IT isn’t good news when a social worker shows up at your door looking depressed yet determined. I have, due to a lifetime of

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